il in dem. An' we ain't 'lowed ter go nowhar
at night, dat is if dey knowed it. I'se seed de time dat niggers from
all ober de neighborhood gang up an' have fun anyhow, but if dey hyard
de patterollers comin' gallopin' on a hoss dey'd fly. Crap shootin' wuz
de style den, but a heap of times dey can't find nothin ter bet.

I toted water, case dat's all I wuz big enough ter do, an' lemmie tell
yo' dat when de war wuz ober I ain't had nary a sprig of hair on my
haid, case de wooden buckets what I toted on it wored it plumb off.

When we got hongry an' could fin' a pig, a calf or a chicken, no matter
who it had belonged to, it den belonged ter us. We raised a heap o' cane
an' we et brown sugar. Hit 's funny dat de little bit dey gibed us wuz
what dey now calls wholesome food, an' hit shore make big husky
niggers.

My mammy had more grit dan any gal I now knows of has in her craw. She
plowed a hateful little donkey dat wuz about as hongry as she wuz, an'
he wuz a cuss if'en dar eber wuz one. Mammy wuz a little brown gal, den,
tough as nails an' she ain't axin' dat donkey no odds at all. She uster
take him out at twelve an' start fer de house an' dat donkey would hunch
up his back an' swear dat she wuzn't gwine ter ride him home. Mammy
would swear dat she would, an' de war would be on. He'd throw her, but
she'd git back on an' atter she'd win de fight he'd go fer de house as
fast as a scaulded dog.

When we hyard dat de Yankees wuz comin' we wuz skeerd, case Marse
Abernathy told us dat dey'd skin us alive. I'members hit wuz de last o'
April or de fust o' May when dey comed, an' I had started fer de cane
fil' wid a bucket o' water on my haid, but when I sees dem Yankees
comin' I draps de bucket an' runs.

De folks thar 'bouts burnt de bridge crost de ribber, but de Yankees
carried a rope bridge wid 'em, so dey crossed anyhow.

Dem Yankees tuck eber thing dat dey saw eben to our kush, what we had
cooked fer our supper. Kush wuz cornmeal, onions, red pepper, salt an'
grease, dat is if we had any grease. Dey killed all de cows, pigs,
chickens an' stold all de hosses an' mules.

We wuz glad ter be free, an' lemmie tell yo', we shore cussed ole
marster out 'fore we left dar; den we comed ter Raleigh. I'se always
been a farmer an' I'se made right good. I lak de white folkses an' dey
laks me but I'll tell yo' Miss, I'd ruther be a nigger any day dan to be
lak my ole white folks wuz.

M. A. H.
L. E.

N. C. District: